The Kids Aren't Alright
by fandomsunleashed
Summary: Because, honey, the kids aren't alright. WARNING: triggering.


The Kids Aren't Alright

Sarah Huddleston

Honey, you may take one small look at them and say they're okay, but you don't know them. Honey, the kids aren't alright.

Take a small look at Jean 'Jehan' Prouvaire, just look at the tiny boy with the caramel braid cascading down his narrow frame. Look at the violets tucked into his braid(violets are his favorite), look at his oversized sweaters that never match with his brightly-colored skinny jeans and tell me he's alright. Take a look at his dilated pupils in his brilliant blue eyes. They're dilated. And he hasn't just been to the eye doctor.

Combeferre. He goes by Combeferre-no one really knows his first name except for Eponine and Enjolras- and his knit sweater vests that he always wears, even in the summer. Combeferre and his rectangular glasses that rest half-way down his nose. Combeferre usually hunched over a textbook, forearms resting on whatever surface the book is on. The long sleeves of the sweaters hiding thin, white scars and newer, redder ones as well.

Eponine Thenardier. The body of 'I'm okay,' or 'Don't you worry about me, I'll be fine,' or 'Goddamn it I'm FINE. Stop asking,' when in reality she's not okay when she pukes over a toilet the remains of her dinner and skips breakfast and lunch. She only eats when she is out with friends and such, but she heaves it out afterwards regardless. Courfeyrac notices. Combeferre notices. Heck, even Enjolras notices. Who can't notice a stick-skinny teenager who always 'forgets her lunch' or 'runs out of lunch money' and refuses to eat whatever her friends push at her? Who? Who can't notice someone whose ribs are too prominent and whose collarbone protrudes out and who fainted in the cafeteria at least three times these past couple of months?

But in the end, the boy who wore his hair in a beautiful braid finally overdoses on his drug of choice and whose boyfriend-who had some idea of what was going on, but not really- held onto his lifeless body in the bathroom and cried. Cried until his eyes turned bright red and snot dripped down his face and chin. Who kissed the boys pink lips one last time and regretted never noticing and never doing anything. Who wanted to kiss those lips and have them kiss him back, because he was beautiful, dammit, and who deserved _**life, **_not death and who never got it. Who thought it was all his fault. Who later would be jumping off a bridge just so he could see his Flower Boy again.

The second boy bleed out. His best friend found him, and I think that was the first time the blonde cried. Blood stained over the floor, a small pocket knife next to the too-pale hand, just slipping off his fingers. He rolled up the boys sleeves on his sweater and just looked at them, cursing himself under his breath. Because no one deserves this. No one deserves to _die like this. _Because no one deserves to feel so unloved and ugly when in reality he's the beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful like Flower Boy. Who was loved by many, but never had a girlfriend. Who's scars reminded the blonde every day of battle scars that soldiers come home with. Who's scars reminded the blonde every day of how _weak _he is compared to the boy who hid himself in his sweaters.

The girl collapsed. She hadn't eaten for at least two weeks and her body just gave up and defied her. A body is supposed to keep you running and hers just _gave up _and she was found dead on her bedroom floor a few days later by Cosette. The girl who was tormented as a child crying over the body of a girl who was loved. But then wasn't. And decided not to eat because it was one thing that she could control, and just _dammit _she needed some control in her life. The girl who was dead knew that she would die. But she didn't care. Because she died of something she could _control _in her life and not of something she couldn't. Who didn't even care when black spots danced before her eyes and her vision was fuzzy and the room was spinning and then slowly fading to black because _**she was controlling what was happening to her and did not give a shit about it. **_

The boy who snorted and drank and smoked to get away from his messed-up life. The boy who thought of himself lower compared to his friends and just needed to _feel something in his life. _The girl who wanted control over something. All of them ended up the same way. Six feet under.

Because, honey, the kids are not alright.


End file.
